How It Was Done
by ardavenport
Summary: A forest guardian sits down to his grisly meal when he has some unexpected visitors. At the end of the story, Qui-Gon wonders about Jedi training.


**HOW IT WAS DONE**

by ardavenport

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><p>Sssimisssmac looked up from his dinner and sniffed. Snarling and grumbling with distaste, he went back to his dinner.<p>

The Haahmisss younglings had fouled themselves in thier box on the other side of his one-room outpost. He would have to bring in a tub of clean water to dunk and scrub each one tomorrow. And then tie them up so he could take them out to clean the box.

His beak digging deep into the sweet young flesh of the first one he had taken out, Sssimisssmac supposed that this was inevitable. The others had to be watching him through the heavy wooden slats of the box. At least they had stopped mewling. He grumbled over a tasty bit of sinew, firm but pleasantly yielding as he bit into it. Gulping the chunk of meat, it rolled down his throat with a wash of aromatic after-taste. It was wonderful.

Haahmisss younglings were always best fresh. He knew some elders, upon catching seven Haahmisssings, would have cooked up the bunch in a stew to put into the preserver for later to make them last. They were never as good that way. But if he had as thin a beak as some elders, he supposed he might do the same.

Licking his fingers, he put down the leg bone and pushed back his chair. It was never a good idea to over-eat, no matter how tasty the meal. A chair leg bumped into the pot next to it and some of the blood in it sloshed on the floor. Sssimisssmac jerked the chair away from it. He had managed the kill and dressing with as little mess as possible and now he just carelessly spilled it.

Getting up, he went to the utility cabinet, slid the door open and grunted at the floor-droid to get to work. It was an older model and a bit slow, but a sturdy and reliable machine that Sssimisssmac knew how to repair, an important point for anyone living by himself in the forest. He bend down and lifted the pot onto the table while the droid kept away from his clawed feet while it did its work.

Some of the blood would be frozen, the cubes to be savored on hot days. The jar of edible organs would be mixed and ground with the smaller meat and fat scraps for a sausage. He would share that when he went into the settlement to see his sisters' family. An illicit and forbidden gift, but as long as no currency was exchanged, nor favors given or promised, the authorities always looked the other way. But one Haahmisssing wasn't nearly enough for even a small batch. Rumaging in his food stocks, he took out the spices and spooned generous amounts on what he had and put it into the back of the preserver. He would grind everything up when he finished the last one.

Sssimisssmac froze, his ears perking up, his tail lowering, the end-tuft sticking straight out. He waited.

He heard it again, the scraping sound from above.

An animal disturbing the foliage over his hidden outpost? No, none of the concealing plants were edible. Sssimisssmac made sure of that. Pursuers hoping to retrieve the Haahmisssings? Unlikely. While he lived near the edge of Shiirissss territory, he was well within the boundary. The Haahmisss sentry droids would never cross the border. Not that they were any good at enforcing the law. That was why guardians like him were necessary. Too many times the Haahmisss Councils claimed that they had programming deficiencies whenever one of their settlements pushed over a border. The whole forest-lands would be sheared down to stumps and ruin without real guardians like him.

The sound came again, along with the faint whisper of voices. The ends of Sssimisssmac mouth curled in a smile. He knew what it was.

Crossing the room of his cozy home, he grabbed a life-scanner from a top shelf and scaled the ladder upward. The upper hatch slid open without even a whisper of sound. He heard the noise again, a rustling of dried leaves and branches above, and he made out a couple youngling voices. He clipped the scanner to his belt; he didn't need it to tell him what was going on.

"It's here. My Pa said it was in this area . . . 'E just made a capture, a kill, I know it. I can smell it. . . . . you can't smell nothin' Ffffsssiiisss. 'E might not even be here."

The sound came closer. They were poking a stick through the cover over his home. Sssimisssmac kept still, waiting. Closer, . . . . closer, . . . . closer. . . .

The dark, knobbly end of the stick plunged down with an exclamation from the youngling at the other end. Sssimisssmac grabbed it and yanked down on it hard.

The youngling who fell though from above would have slammed his beak into one of the upper steps if Sssimisssmac hadn't grabbed it.

"Mmmmmmm!"

Sssimisssmac kept his grip on the youngling's beak; only a very muffled cry of shock escaped as he let the youngling down on the step before him. Above, it took his comrades a moment to figure out that he was no longer with them.

"Ssssshmmmisss? Ssssshmmmisss? Wher'd'ee go?"

"Ssssshmmmisss! "Ssssshmmmisss!"

"Stop fooling! "Ssssshmmmisss!"

Ssssshmmmisss's terrified yellow eyes stared up at Sssimisssmac stern gaze; the youngling weakly tried to pry the guardian's iron grip from his beak. His claws grazed Sssimisssmac's bony fingers and he cruelly tighteneds his grip. The younglings arms fell back to his sides.

Sssimisssmac heard the other two crashing about in the brush, getting closer. He debated letting them fall through the open entryway as well, but it wouldn't do for all three of them to see his lair. The muscles of of his legs tightened into a crouch. Swiftly, he released the youngling's beak, simultaneously grabbing his collar and springing upward.

"AAAAAAaaaaaiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee! ! !"

Their cry of surprise was quite satisflying as Sssimisssmac crashed upward through the cover foliage and landed well away from the entryway, their comrade's shirt still firmly in his grasp. He ruthlessly threw Ssssshmmmisss down in the dirt before the two other cowering younglings.

They were older younglings, their tails just beginning to tuft, but their head-hair still short and stubbly, their feet hairless.

"So, you think you can just sneak in here and catch sight of a kill? Eh?"

Three mute, yellow pairs of eyes stared back. Frozen in place, they knew they were in big trouble.

"Do you have your parents' permission to be here?"

No answer.

"DO YOU?"

"N-n-n-o," the one female answered. "S-s-ssssir," she added, bobbing her head.

Ssssshmmmisss hastily scrabbled to his feet. "W-w-w-w-w-we just thought - - -"

"THOUGHT?"

They cringed back from him but stayed rooted in place.

"If you had been thinking, then I don't think you would even be here."

They all lowered their heads and gave him no more excuses. Well, at least their parents had taught them good manners. Sssimisssmac demanded their names.

They were cousins. Ssssshmmmisss Has-Missa, Ffffsssiiisss Has-Missa and Maaisssuss Has-Missa. Fifffsssiiiss and Maaisssuss had the same mother. They were from the nearest settlement, as he suspected though he didn't know their family. He paced before them and listed his options of what he should do with them.

No one would be surprised if he just chopped off the ends of their tails like common criminals. He had some very sharp cleavers down below. Their parents would be very disappointed in them. With the ends of their tails gone, the best they could do would become laborers on an off-world ship where no one would know who they were or what they had done. They would probably have to go about with their claws clipped all the time because no one would trust them.

Their parents would be even more displeased if Sssimisssmac reported them as trespassers on the outer borders to the constables. Their families would have to pay ruinous fines and pay for having his guard outpost moved. Sssimisssmac pondered out loud the costly new maintenance droids he would demand for his new outpost because his old ones were outdated and slow. Their families might have to sell their homes and live in the ravines.

Tears welled up in the eyes of the three younglings as Sssimisssmac went through all the possible ways that they had ruined not only their own lives but the lives of their parents and siblings. But they kept their eyes upward, their bodies low. They had been taught their manners.

"But maybe . . . . if you _swear_ to confess this to your mothers and beg their forgiveness and never EVER return here . . . . I might not have to report this."

Terrified hope competed with the fear in them and Sssimisssmac grinned.

"SWEAR!"

They grovelled, giving their vows as quickly as they could, promising to honor their parents and their word, to obey their teachers, to gouge out their eyes and offer them to him if they did not keep their oaths. He glowered down at them for awhile, drawing out the possibility that he might not find them worthy and report their misdeed to the authorities anyway.

"Stay here."

Without waiting for a reply, he whirled; in a few strides and one high jump, he landed back on the entry stairs, his strong legs absorbing the impact. He hurried to his work table.

Chop! Chop! Chop! Quickly, he returned to the stairs and sprang up them, the three morsels, half a gulp each, skewered on the claws of each finger of his right hand. Again, he leaped high, up and away from the entryway and the ground cover, and landed before his three victims.

"Close your eyes. Open your mouths."

They hesitated only a few seconds before complying, trembling in place. One, two, three; he popped small chunks of meat into their open mouths, his gift confirming that he had accepted their promise.

Eyes blinking wide, they looked up at him in wonder. He said nothing. Let them wonder what it was.

Generations ago, the Massshmissmasss Councils had discontinued the tasting-of-Haahmisss-flesh from the coming-of-age rites of younglings not much older than these, a necessary evil to keep the peace after the Haahmisss alliance with the Galactic Republic. Yes, any petitioner to guardian status was introduced to this rare delicacy, but that secret rite wasn't nearly as special for the adult recipients.

Sssimisssmac knew this very well indeed, since many years ago he had once been a terrified youngling (younger than these three) hoping for a thrilling glimpse of a kill or a squirt of blood, cowering with his sister before a guardian who threatened them with the direst punishments for their trespassing.

Of course he would report this infraction, but the authorities would do none of the things he had threatened. Both he and his sister were guardians now. This was how it was done now.

"Now go. GO!"

They scrabbled over each other in their haste. They crashed through the undergrowth, over fallen tree trunks, stumbling into bushes. When the sounds of their flight grew too faint to hear, he monitored their progress with the life-scanner, making sure that they made it back to settlement territory. Chuckling to himself, he clipped the device back on his belt.

Crik.

He froze. Then turning his head only, he scanned the area around him. He flexed his claws. Something was there. Damn, he'd had the scanner on tight beam, following the younglings. Anything could have crept up on him. This territory was well scent-marked and none of the large predators had tried to invade it in some time. But it could be something new, from outside the area, a beast coming into its prime and looking to establish itself.

Sssimisssmac flexed his claws. He could take anything as big as a masssihsss, but there were a few larger predators in the forest. His left hand closed over the butt of the blaster on his belt. Better safe than sorry.

Crik, crik.

He whirled, turning his ears toward the sound. It was late, the forest graying into twilight, the worst possible time to be out. Not good.

Heart pounding, he slowly un-holstered the weapon, clicking off the safety. There were more noises. There were definitely two of them. Perhaps a pair of ssshuisssm? Newly mated and driven out of their own territory by the pack alphas? That would be the most likely possibility.

Sssimisssmac whirled again, blaster ready. Was there one behind him? He didn't see anything. It was getting darker.

He felt the motion, the crackling of dry branches, leaves, the energy hum, as much as he heard them behind him as he turned again, got off one shot and then shrank back from the bright-blue white light that suddenly cut through the increasing gloom.

He couldn't believe it. Was it . . . . a Jedi?

This one was barely half his height, a young one, a male very much like the Haahmisss, but with flat, rumpled ears on the sides of his head. In full robe and pale shirts, he had short darkish hair, pale skin, bluish in the glow from the weapon he held up, a single fiery, open beam of plasma. Very dangerous. Jedi were supposed to be deadly with their plasma swords.

Still . . . . he was NOT supposed to be there. Jedi were Republics.

Sssimisssmac fired. Five quick shots with deadly accuracy. The young Jedi gracefully pivoted, plasma sword quickly swinging around, easily catching each bolt. He quickly jumped to the side when the last ricochet whizzed by his knee close enough for him to feel the heat. He circled, trying to think of a way to bring this Jedi down. He had the right. Republics had no right to be on this side of the border.

A movement behind the Jedi caught his eye. Another, larger one. Diving right into the open hatch of his outpost. Snarling, Sssimisssmac fired off a shot, but this second Jedi was out of sight already. They were working together, the younger one distracting him while the bigger one went below.

Sssimisssmac tried circling again, but the Jedi kept himself, and his energy sword between him and the entrance to his underground outpost.

Suddenly he heard a squeal and crackle of energy; a greenish glow appeared among the branches. The other Jedi was cutting through the roof of his outpost! Why?

The answer came a moment later. The box of Haahmisss younglings rose up from the ground and then the other Jedi holding it aloft, the Haahmissings inside shrieking in panic. He was bigger, much bigger than the younger one, with long hair and a darker robe. But still, that box must have massed five times his body, yet he held it up over his head as if it were nothing. He stepped clear of the entryway and away toward the path, backing up. The younger one backed up, covering him.

Angry, his outpost violated, Sssimisssmac lunged. He did not fire; he had no hope of stopping them. But he had to do something.

The bluish plasma beam came down and with a pop and squeal cleaved off the end of his blaster.

Sssimisssmac dropped the weapon in case the damaged caused it to mis-fire. But it didn't. The metal of the barrel glowed red on the leaves that smoked, but did not catch fire. Looking up, he saw the young Jedi joining the other one who lowered the box so they could carry it together.

He could still give chase. Slash with claw and beak. Attack. He had the right.

Sssimisssmac's shoulders slumped. The sounds of their footfalls and the screams of the Haahmissings fading in the distance as he let them go. They could cut him down in an instant. Worse, cut off a limb, leave him damaged for life. He went to the gaping hole leading down to his outpost.

He would have to call for help, report this infraction. But would the Massshmissmasss Councils do anything? And risk escalating cross border incidents? Even war if the animosities led to more cross-border invasions, like a runaway fire?

No. Not for a single incident. Not for a box of Haahmisssings caught just inside the border while the were sneaking into the forbidden forest. They would cover it up, not say anything unless it happened again. He had a feeling that it wouldn't, for whatever reason, this looked like a one-time raid.

Hanging his head, tail dragging behind him, Sssimisssmac descended down into his outpust.

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><p><strong>o(o)o(o)o(o)o(o)o(o)o(o)o(o)o<strong>

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><p>Qui-Gon Jinn felt the other end of the container dragging.<p>

"Obi-Wan. _Focus_."

The other side of the container lifted. A bit. Not as much as it should, but enough.

They had already been forced to stop twice in the dark forest to defend themselves against predators. Qui-Gon cut the beasts down while Obi-Wan defended the Aras'has younglings. They had wrist lumens, but the trail was rough, rocky and overgrown with thorny bushes. They had to climb steep slopes and down through ravines. Fortunately, the younglings had quieted on their own, still panicked and terrified, but thankfully silent. There was no time to stop to comfort them. They couldn't take them out of their filthy, reeking prison. They couldn't carry them all without it.

Qui-Gon felt the living forest all around in the forest, tall trees, night creatures, the trail, the Force, strong and flowing through his whole body, through the box, reeking of terror, to his sixteen year-old Padawan on the other side of it. The mindless fear in the youngling smeared the imprint of the Force with gray darkness, but that was only a minor distraction.

Obi-Wan stumbled again.

"_Obi-Wan, focus._"

Qui-Gon pressed his influence over his Padawan even further, almost as if he were carrying younglings and his young apprentice. There was no other choice. Obi-Wan was well past his limits, moving forward on the strength of the Force and his Master's will, not his own. It was not something that any Jedi Master did lightly, only when absolutely necessary.

They climbed up another rocky hill, finally beyond the line of trees. The cloudless horizon had turned an indigo shade of pre-dawn darkness along the horizon. The galactic core and stellar clusters brilliantly spattered across the sky above them. No longer blocked by the forest canopy, the starry sky and the planet's large reddish moon gave them enough light to see by. They had cleared the forest, reached the border. Their ship was visible in the distance on a dark plain of rocks, short grasses and stubby bushes.

Obi-Wan panted, loud in the chill air, but still in time with his Master's breathing. Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the ship, his pace steady and unyeilding. Obi-Wan's blank stare did not even see it, just looked in the same direction his Master did. Their boots crunching on the gravel and coarse, packed dirt, they slowed and finally stopped by their ship.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon lowered his side of the square container. Obi-Wan lowered his body with him, but he was too numb to pull his hands free. Going to the other side of the container, Qui-Gon lifted it with one hand and helped pull Obi-Wan's fingers free with the other. Nearly senseless, Obi-Wan sat open-mouthed, exhaling clouds of cold air while Qui-Gon carefully examined his hands. There was nothing broken though there would likely be bruises.

Clicking off his and Obi-Wan's wrist lumens and taking the controller from his belt pouch, he opened the ship's ramp. He heard the ship's R3 unit beeping and chirping an inquiry. Leaping up and into the ship, he ignored the astromech and went to the rear compartments. Medical case, emergency blankets, a portable cleanser unit from the survival gear. He carried it back to the container at the base of the ramp. Obi-Wan still sat up next to it, his head now resting on its side.

Qui-Gon put everything down and knelt. He waved his hand and the lock on the container clicked open. The small figures inside huddled away from him. He raised his hand.

"It's all right. You're safe now. You can rest. We're taking you back to your families."

After hours of terror and fear, it was difficult to get through to them, but he continued repeating them, his voice low and comforting, until the tension bled away from them. He reached inside to take out the first one.

She was a little girl, maybe five standard years. She sniffled and silently cried as he stripped off her soiled clothes, skimmed off the grime and waste with the cleanser unit and wrapped her in a blanket. He carried her up the ramp and laid her down. There were no bunks on their small ship and he could not make the deck plates any softer. Rolling an end of the blanket under her head, he touched her temple.

"Sleep now, you will soon be with those who will love and care for you."

Her expression still pinched with misery, her large brown eyes closed in exhaustion, her body relaxing. She stroked her soft, silvery hair once more before rising and going for the next one.

A boy, about seven years. A girl, about six. Another girl the same age. A boy, about four. A girl about six.

Finally, he descended the ramp for Obi-Wan. He had hardly moved while his Master cared for the younglings. Qui-Gon laid a hand on his shoulder and his eyes lifted.

"Xells wasn't with them. Can we go back?" he asked, almost begging.

Qui-Gon had trouble speaking for a moment. "No," he finally answered. "He is gone."

Seven younglings had disappeared. There were only six here. Plus the bloody, butchered remains that he had seen when he went below ground to rescue them.

Obi-Wan's eyes teared. "I-I-I'm sorry I disobeyed you, Master. I-I-I didn't - - "

Qui-Gon laid his hands on either side of his face, turning it up to look at him in the early morning light, laying a thumb over his trembling lips, stopping his stammering apology.

"I did not directly order you not to try to rescue Elhie's brother, though it was unwise of you to think you could do it by yourself." The young girl, Elhie, who had attached herself to him during this simple mission, had very clumsily tried to keep him busy to let Obi-Wan try to take a speeder to the forest to look for Xells. He had been surprised when Qui-Gon had told him that they should take the ship instead, and he had not questioned why his Master chose to help him cross the border where the Jedi had no authority.

Qui-Gon laid a hand on his forehead, clammy with sweat. "Rest now. We will discuss this later."

Quite unable to resist, and possibly completely unaware of his Master's influence, Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered shut, his consciousness fading into a haze of grief, fatigue and the Force.. Qui-Gon gently lowered him to the ground.

He exhaled, letting his head fall back, looking up at the dark blue, lightening sky, the moon risen higher, going to pale rust red. He held on to the Force a little longer, the strength that let him climb up and down hills all night, with that horrible container, the terrified younglings, his anguished Padawn. He needed it for just a little bit longer.

He stripped Obi-Wan. Boots, belt and lightsaber went into the ship. He used the cleanser unit on him like he had for the younglings. Obi-Wan had lost control of his bodily functions hours ago. Wrapping him in the last emergency blanket, he lifted his young Padawan's limp body, carried him into the ship and raised the ramp.

The astromech beeped and whistled, apparently upset by the six small bodies and now Obi-Wan cluttering up the deck. Qui-Gon gave it a cross look and it immediately quieted. He ordered it to take the ship back to the capital city. The Councilors could deal with any fallout from the incident however they wished. Qui-Gon did not care.

The deck plates vibrated slightly as she ship lifted off, the engines rumbling low for the short trip. None of the younglings stirred. Qui-Gon, sitting next to Obi-Wan, kept his hand on his young apprentice's stomach, just under the ribcage, feeling it slowly rise and fall.

He had deliberately not ordered Obi-Wan to help Elhie, though he could clearly see what he might do. The Councilors would of course not ask for help when the younglings were reported missing even though one of them was a Councilor's son. All the evidence showed that they had gone on their own ill-advised adventure in the forest. But young Elhie knew nothing of borders and treaties. Her little brother was missing in a land where their elders told them that misbehaving stray children would be killed and eaten. She had asked for help. Obi-Wan said he would.

All young Padawans did this as they grew strong with the Force, more confident in their abilities. If they were sworn to uphold justice, why should they not fight _all_ injustice. Rescue all who needed their help. Or came to them and begged for it. But it was never that simple. In a galaxy full of wrongs and even nightmare horrors, this was the grim reality that all Padawans had to learn.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, letting go of the Force, the flow of infinite strength that had sustained him all night. He swayed a bit, but recovered. He could rest later. He did not get up and go forward to the pilot's seat but stayed close to Obi-Wan.

All Padawans had to learn their limits, even as those limits expanded. Obi-Wan had trained with him for a full day and night, no rest, no sustenance, only the Force. But training was never enough, never the same as the reality and shock of the moment.

Qui-Gon lifted his hand and touched Obi-Wan's cheek, his fingers slowly going to the thin Padawan's braid behind his ear. It always seemed to be longer than he expected whenever he looked at it.

He had hoped that his Padawan would mind the peculiar laws of this divided world, but Qui-Gon suspected that he wouldn't. So he let him try. They did save the other younglings, though it would not feel like a success when they told Xells's family about their son's death. Padawans did not learn to be Jedi Knights from training; they learned from experience, but the price for this lesson had been very high. It saddened Qui-Gon that he knew of no other way.

This was how it was done.

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><p><strong>o(o)o(o)o(o)o END o(o)o(o)o(o)o<strong>

**Disclaimer: **This story first posted on tf.n on 31-Oct-2011. All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to George and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.


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